The Physician in the Pine Tree
by Skye Summers
Summary: Booth's half-sister discovers a fresh, horribly mutilated body; the Jeffersonian investigates the death, and Booth realizes she's a prime suspect. Meanwhile, she develops a hopeless crush on Zack, who's completely clueless about her intentions. Zack/OFC
1. Chapter 1

The forest was no place for a girl to walk alone at night. If common sense didn't pound that in, the darkness, the thorn bushes, and the poison ivy sure did. Trees loomed over the path – which wasn't so much an actual trail so much as a line of slightly tamped-down vegetation – and obscured the light of the moon and stars in a rather ominous fashion. Yet despite the obvious warnings from nature, a girl was making her way through the brush armed with nothing but a cellphone.

Every step she took produced a sickening squelch; the mud seemed incapable of getting her purple Converse filthy without simultaneously making an awful noise. It was impossible to listen to the sound without wincing – it was disgusting, really. Worst of all, tonight there was no cacophony of crickets or birds to drown it out. Besides the squelching, everything was eerily silent. She wasn't sure whether the noise made things more or less frightening, but it sure as hell annoyed her.

"I don't see them. Then again, I can't see anything, since I need them to... Is that a catch-22? I think that qualifies for catch-22 status. Does it?"

"_I... Sure. Whatever. But you know this is the trail where Ken disappeared, right?_" A nasal voice came from her iPhone.

"Who's Ken?" She asked absently as she aimed the phone's backlit screen at the forest floor. Her glasses were supposed to be around here, and stepping on them would render her efforts thus far completely meaningless.

"_Seriously? He was your lab partner for, like, six weeks. Point is, he was walking around one night and just up and –_"

"My lab partner when? High school? Undergrad? Med school? Which class? You'll need to be more specific." He didn't sound familiar. Then again, names of people who weren't terribly important to her had the tendency to fade into oblivion with incredible swiftness.

"_Pathology? Like, two months ago? Seriously?_"

She frowned and paused. It was probably better to lie here. "Oh. Yeah. Ken. Him. I remember. Sure. Where are my glasses?"

She thought she heard sniggering – from multiple people – but that could have been her imagination. "_They're on the branch of the dying pine tree. Can't miss it – it's all brown and nasty-looking. Anyway, this place is why you needed a new lab partner. You know how Ken just stopped coming to class? Well, he went hiking in those woods you're in. And he called his girlfriend, said that he'd heard some awful roar or something, and then she heard all this screaming, and then there was dead silence._" The voice dropped to a whisper. "_You know, they never found the body_."

"For lack of effort? If he had his phone with him, why didn't they just use triangulation to pinpoint –"

"_I don't know! Maybe the phone got separated from the body. Or maybe,_" the voice grew low again, "_whatever killed him just ate him up. Maybe it dragged him off to its lair._"

"This is absurd. If we're to assume – since there was a roar – that he was killed by a wild animal, then – I mean, a roar would indicate a bear or one of the great cats. Since this area, as far as I'm aware, has no great cats and a bear population that's marginal at best – additionally, I've never heard of a bear dragging its kill for a considerable distance, and human attacks are very rare – plus you claimed that there was a roar and _then _screaming, but said nothing about intermingling of the two – I mean, I really doubt that a bear would kill without making some noise as it did so –"

"_Maybe it wasn't a bear,_" the voice intoned darkly. "_You know the story of the D.C. Demon Cat, right? Maybe it's got a giant cousin with a taste for human flesh. You'd better watch out, Jess._"

"You're being ridiculous. He was probably... I mean, Washington's crawling with gangs. Maybe he just got involved with the wrong –" A roar tore through the forest, and the girl covered her ears. It was overwhelmingly loud... and full of static.

"_Oh my God, I hear it! Run, Jess, run!_"

She shone her phone around the trees, looking for a speaker. Nothing, nothing – there, she saw something. It was a bit blurry without her glasses, but it sure looked like... Maybe she just needed a closer look. She reached into her bag, ignoring the laughs and _run, run run!_s coming from her phone, pulled out her camera and zoomed in as close as she could. Oh, _damn._

"I'd say... not a bear or a cat or anything. It looks more like he was cut up with a chain saw.," she said.

"_He... What the hell are you talking about? It was a joke, okay? Just trying to have fun with you. No one's dead. Ken's with family in California._"

"This guy sure looks dead."

"_Look, stop it. We've got your glasses in the dorm. No one thought you were actually going to go into the woods in the middle of the... Just get back here, okay? Joke's over._"

"I... don't think this is part of your joke. I – I'm calling someone."

"_Who? Why? Jess?_" She hung up, then immediately dialed another number. Her hands were starting to shake – adrenaline, probably – but she got through to the right person. She could tell because no one else hated being woken up in the middle of the night quite so much.

"_Hello?_"

"Um, hi, Seeley. I sort of, I mean, there's kind of an issue here –"

"Jessie? What – it's two in the morning."

"Well, some of my classmates said that my glasses were in this park, right, and then, um, there were trees, and, uh, I was looking for a speaker, since I heard this _gragggghhh _noise, and then I saw something on one of the trees, and I'm all alone, so I have no alibi, and it looks really recent, so I thought it might not be a good idea to call the regular cops, since it might sort of look like I maybe did it –"

"Look, just tell me what happened." He was definitely pissed. She didn't blame him; it was two in the morning.

"I, well.. I'm sort of looking at this body..."


	2. Chapter 2

"Booth, why did you call me?" Bones' face was a mixture of confusion and annoyance – mostly the latter. "These bones are completely covered in flesh."

"Well, the coroners couldn't get anything. They pulled DNA, but they said there was no match in the system."

"Then why didn't they use dental records or fingerprints?" Zack asked as he approached, climbing the stairs that led to the forensic platform. His hair was a floppy, disheveled mess, as always; his lack of concern for personal appearance irritated Booth.

"Come on, you're a genius, right? Take a look."

He did so, leaning over the table and peering intently at what was left of the poor person. "Oh. The distal phalanges have been removed. The teeth were as well; we can't even get a rough approximation of their shape, since some sort of sharp instrument was used to chip and deform the dental alveoli. Neither of those methods of identification are possible."

"Yeah. So, Bones, whatcha got?"

"The shape of the pelvis tells us that the victim is male," she explained. "And the presence of a nasal sill indicates Caucasoid descent. The most severe injuries, including the dismemberment, are postmortem – Zack, could you tell me how we know that?"

"Lack of hemorrhaging. If those injuries were sustained while he was alive, there would be enormous amounts of blood." He didn't seem particularly concerned. God, they were so... nonchalant about it. It was like they were discussing dinner plans.

"Good. Have you determined cause of death?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Damage to the second cervical vertebra. I'm not sure what caused it – whatever was used to destroy the alveoli was also used to deform the site of the fatal injury." He gestured towards a spot on the back victim's upper neck – just below the head – that looked even worse than the rest of the body. Booth hadn't imagined that anything could look worse than a skin-stripped human body chopped into dozens of pieces, but that spot proved him wrong. There was a gaping, bloody hole, deep enough to expose a shattered neck bone; tendrils of torn flesh were hanging from the sides, dangling in front of the vertebra or whatever Zack had called it. But they didn't hide it. They just made the sight that much more disgusting. He averted his eyes, looking at Bones instead.

"How are you gonna ID this guy?"

"I was going to ask Angela to do a reconstruction," she replied. "The skull is badly damaged, but I have confidence in her abilities."

"Great," Booth said, clapping his hands together. "Call me when you have a name." There wasn't anything else he could do here, and he still needed to interview Jessica. Plus he wasn't in love with the idea of watching them examine the corpse.

"Yes, Agent Booth," Zack replied. He didn't even look up from the body as Booth strode away.

* * *

"So..." Booth began, "why were you alone in the woods at two in the morning?" He and Jessica were sitting in the cold, gray room the FBI used for interrogations.

"Some kids – well, not kids, since we're over eighteen – from my pathology class took my glasses and told me they were in the forest. As a prank, you know? They had some story about this kid called Ken and how he got murdered in that forest, and they tried to scare me. Then I saw the body, and I thought that was him for a second, but..." She shook her head. "Well, first of all, they said he was visiting family, and second of all, he's twenty-three and black."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"The body belonged to an older white guy."

He was surprised, to say the least. "How would you know that?"

"'Cause – you have pictures in the case file?"

He nodded, passing the manila folder across. She opened it, flipping through to the first picture of the body.

"Look, see here?" She pointed at the skull. "Teardrop-shaped nasal cavity, angular eye orbits, prominent nasal spine – he's white. And the clavicle is fused, so he's thirty-plus."

"They teach you that at med school?"

"Kind of. But it's mostly from undergrad. I mean, you remember how I dabbled in a bunch of stuff before I settled on my majors." She'd ended up picking zoology and physics – God knew how either of those was helpful in any way. Every one of her fifty million minors was more useful; maybe something forensic had been one of them. He could never remember them all.

"Do you think one of the kids who pranked you might have killed this guy?"

"Probably not. I don't think they're that sort of... I mean, they're jerks, but they're not evil. I think so, anyway. But maybe they did do it. One of them was in undergrad with me, and I remember in biology when we had to dissect frogs – she seemed to really like pithing it. It was creepy."

"Okay. You, ah, have any idea who the dead guy might be?"

"Um... any one of the hundreds of millions of white men over the age of thirty? I mean, that doesn't narrow it down much."

"No, I mean... you think that girl from college might have killed him? Was there anyone who didn't get along with her?"

"I dunno. Everyone? She's kind of a... You know, I don't think she did it. I... I don't know who did it. I have no idea. I mean, I was walking in the forest and just found a body. Just like that. I don't know who it is, and I don't know how it got there."

He sighed. There was some frustration – he had no leads – but it was mostly a sigh of relief. She seemed to honestly have no idea about the murder. His sister had nothing to do with the dead guy.

His cell phone buzzed, and he glanced down. _Angela has completed reconstruction_, Bones' text read. _She's matched it against the missing persons database; the victim is Dr. Todd Walters. He teaches epidemiology to medical students at Gyllenhall University._

Jessica went to Gyllenhall medical school.

"Hey... Jess?" He said after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"You know a Doctor Todd Walters?"

Her face hardened. "Oh, you mean the guy who lowered my grade in his class because I put a dot over a comma in my textbook to make it into a semicolon? Yeah, I know him. The sentence was incorrect as it was written; the writer attempted to connect two independent clauses with a comma. That comma obviously needed to be replaced with a semicolon or a conjunction, but he noticed me writing in the book and took offense to my correction. See, apparently he wrote the book. So we had this debate about grammar in front of the whole class... I won, and he got mad. He said that I thought too highly of myself... or something... I don't know. I don't listen when people yell at me."

Oh, no. Not only did she know the guy, she had motive. But... she just wasn't capable of killing anyone. She literally couldn't hurt a fly; when she found a bug, she took it outside. She didn't even dump it on the ground – she would gently slide it onto a leaf or flower or whatever that particular kind of bug liked. He just couldn't imagine her killing a guy, chopping off his fingers, pulling out his teeth, tearing up his skin, chipping away as many distinctive features as she could, and then using a chain saw to reduce him to a pile of limbs and organs.

"Why?" She wondered.

"We think he's the murder victim."

* * *

"Oh, wow. This place is amazing. I haven't had time to visit a museum in so long," Jessica trilled, looking around the Jeffersonian. Something caught her eye, and she dashed over to inspect it. "Oh, look, it's an exhibit on birds! There's a moa, and... oh, rainbow lorikeets are my favorite! I used to really want one when I was a kid. You know, before we met." She pointed at what looked like a freakishly large ostrich without wings and then at a cute, colorful little parrot sort of thing.

"Why don't you want one anymore? Looks pretty." It really did live up to the 'rainbow' in its name; he'd never seen anything quite so... well, rainbow.

"Well... it mostly eats nectar, and that results in really messy –"

"Okay!" He held up his hands. "Rainbow birds bad. Got it."

She gazed at the exhibit for a few more moments, then turned to him. "Sorry, distracted. We were going to see Doctor Brennan?"

He nodded. "You can take a look at Angela's reconstruction – see if you recognize it as your professor." She wasn't really needed for that; Angela was great at what she did, and she was sure that she'd identified the guy properly. But he wasn't too thrilled with the idea of Jess seeing the body again, especially now that she knew who it was.

When they reached the lab, he pointed down a fairly short hallway. "Angela's office is down there. Go ask her if you can see the sketch, okay?"

"Sure. Wait. Where's her office?"

"Over there," he pointed again. "Just go down there and turn right, okay? I've got to talk to Bones."

"Um, okay. Do I take the first right, or do I keep going down the hall until the second right? Or the third... and how far do I go once I turn right? Is there a nameplate on her door? Seeley?" She turned around, but he'd already walked off.

She hesitated for a moment, then ventured down the corridor.

* * *

It was a small lab. How was she so hopelessly lost? She must have opened a hundred doors – some more than once – only to find a room full of scientific equipment and people staring at her each time. She'd then apologized and left in a horribly awkward fashion. Everyone was going to end up hating her; she was sure.

She had no idea where she was now. She'd wandered around the lab aimlessly for far too long; Seeley's directions were completely forgotten. She couldn't even remember where she'd started. And now she stood in front of a door that led to God knew what. Well, there was only one way to find out. She pushed it open.

This was definitely not the artist's office. Bones were everywhere, laid out on tables for examination. There seemed to be so many... but no, they weren't all. They weren't even a drop in the ocean. The rows of sky-high shelves that stretched off into the distance had bones on them, too. Clear plastic compartments were filled with skeletons, with the remnants of lives, hopes, dreams... It was overwhelming. There had to be thousands of people in here; it was like an above-ground cemetery.

After a few moments of stunned silence, fascination replaced her shock. The golden bracelets set aside next to one of the skeletons had a distinctly ancient look to them; the runes cut into them looked like cuneiform writing. Was the skeleton from ancient Mesopotamia? The bones on the table next to it could be from Gaul, circa Julius Caesar's reign; both hands were missing, and the distal ends of the ulnae and radii had suffered obvious trauma. Then again, plenty of people through history had had their hands cut off; the skeleton could just as easily belong to a man whose hands were amputated due to frostbite. Still, it was incredible to think of all the cultures contained in this room.

"Who are you?" Someone asked. Oh. Right. She probably shouldn't be here. Crap.

"Um... I'm Jessica Kent. I, ah, I was the one who discovered the body of the professor... I'm looking for someone named Angela - she's an artist." She turned around, expecting a stern, gray-bearded professor; to her surprise, the speaker didn't look much older than her. He was a bit on the shorter side, with brown puppy-dog eyes, fluffy brown hair, and a confused expression on his face.

"Oh. You're Agent Booth's sister." He seemed a bit stiff; the confused expression didn't go away, even once he realized who she was. He probably didn't get how she ended up in a room filled to the ceiling with dead people when she was trying to find an artist.

"Yeah – well – yes. I'm really sorry if I'm not supposed to be here; I just... kind of got hopelessly lost. Directions aren't really my thing," she confessed sheepishly.

There was a short period of silence. She was starting to suspect that his confusion had more to do with socializing in general than with any specific part of the situation.

"Do you know where her office is?" She asked.

"Yes. To get there, you go forward, turn left, continue past three hallways, turn left again, continue walking forward until you reach the stairs, go up, turn right, walk past two more corridors, then turn right again, then pass one hallway, and then turn left; her office is immediately to the left." That would be very helpful, supposing she could remember half of it.

"Okay... do you think you could show me, if you're not too busy?" As much as she didn't want to be a pain, she didn't want to end up somewhere she wasn't supposed to be again.

"I could do that." He walked over to the table the Mesopotamian skeleton was resting on and picked up a container of tools, then exited the room. Casting one last look backwards at the rows and rows of bones, Jessica followed.

"So... what's your name?" She asked, trying to make conversation.

"Zachary Uriah Addy. I'm usually referred to as Zack."

"What do you do here?" God, she was a lame conversationalist.

"I study forensic anthropology under Doctor Brennan."

"Oh, that's interesting. I minored in anthropology – not forensic or anything, though. Just anthropology in general."

He didn't respond; she wasn't sure whether he disliked her or talking in general.

"I assume you're working on a doctorate?"

"Two. One in forensic anthropology and one in engineering."

"Wow. Sounds like a lot of work."

"It is."

"I'm working on becoming a doctor too – a medical doctor, though. I'm not sure what my specialty will be yet, but I'm kind of leaning towards becoming a surgeon."

He said nothing; she was starting to get frustrated.

"So... you know Seeley pretty well?"

"No, not really. He has threatened to shoot me several times."

She couldn't think of a good response to that. "Oh. Um... that's really too bad."

"This is Angela's office," he said, stopping. "I need to return to Doctor Brennan."

"Sure. Thanks for showing me," she called out as he left.

As she was about to knock on the door, it opened onto her face; from her new vantage point on the floor, she saw a gorgeous Asian woman step out.

"Oh my God, I didn't see you there! I'm so sorry." She looked as though she actually meant it, Jess thought as she stood up.

"It's okay. Considering prior experience, I'd almost certainly have found a way to fall over without any assistance whatsoever." She laughed a bit, then brushed off her jeans, even though it was pointless – the floor was clean, and her hands couldn't do much against microbes anyway – and straightened her shirt. "Are you Angela?"

"Yes, I am." She smiled. "You're Jessica, right?"

"Yep. Jessica Kent."

"Huh," Angela mused, putting one hand on her hip. "Your hair is the same color... kind of the same cheekbones... But I was expecting you to look a bit more like Booth. You know, since you're siblings."

"I'm just his half-sister. Same dad, but, well – his mom was the pretty one."

"What? No, sweetie, I didn't mean – you're adorable. Just... not in the same way." Was she lying to make her feel better, or did she mean it? She had no idea. She wouldn't figure it out even if she thought about it forever, so she might as well move on.

"Your necklace is really pretty," she commented. It was a string of chunky glass emeralds – or maybe peridots – and it meshed perfectly with her green-and-white silk halter top.

"Oh. Well, thank you." Angela smiled. "So, what kept you?"

"Kept me?" Jessica echoed, confused.

"From coming here sooner." Oh. Duh. "Booth said you were going to come see me as soon as you got here."

"I... well, I got lost."

"On the way to my office?" She laughed. "You just walk straight and turn right. How'd you get lost?"

"I know it seems absurd. Just – I'm afraid I'm hardly an adroit navigator. I've never been terribly good at taking directions."

"Where were you?" Angela wondered.

"Where wasn't I?" She made a face. "I must have opened every door in this building – save yours, of course. I ended up in an enormous room full of bones, where, luckily, Zack found me. He brought me here straight after that."

"Oh, you met Zack? Did you two talk much?"

"Well, I tried. But I kind of suck at talking to people, so we didn't get too far in the conversation. By the way," she paused, "he said something about Seeley threatening to shoot him?"

Angela laughed. "That happens every time Zack asks him about sex." Noticing the younger woman's bewilderment, she explained. "Zack's... not so good with people. But he's such a sweetheart."

Jessica wasn't sure how to respond.

"So, Seeley wanted me to show you the reconstruction," Angela said, breaking the awkward silence.

"Yeah, sure."

They entered the office; Jessica's eyes were immediately drawn to the enormous computer screen on one of the walls. Angela pressed a button, and a familiar, much-loathed image of a man's faced appeared.

He had a cleft chin, a large, hooked nose, and small eyes; his overall facial structure was robust and symmetrical. He wasn't stunningly handsome, but there was a sort of rugged appeal. That was what her female classmates said, anyway. She couldn't see it.

"Definitely Doctor Walters," she agreed. "So what now?"

Angela looked at her for a moment. "I could fix your hair," she suggested.

"Um... sure," Jess agreed.

* * *

Booth stood outside a massive stone building; it was pretty imposing for an inanimate object. He'd gotten a copy of Angela's sketch, and, upon her assurance that Jess wouldn't need a ride for quite some time, he'd left the Jeffersonian and headed for Gyllenhall.

He stopped a dark-clad boy with a mohawk and nose piercings; he didn't look particularly friendly, but he was carrying an epidemiology textbook, so he probably knew Doctor Walters. "Hey, kid," Booth called, displaying his badge. "Got a few questions about Doctor Todd Walters. You know him?"

"Yeah. About time you people came after him. I mean, I know you can't do much about the sex thing, since his students are all legal, but – what'd he do? He touch a minor? I can so see him doing that."

"Sex thing?" What the hell was he talking about?

"Yeah, man. He's slept with, like, half his students. Creepy, if you ask me." Jessica was one of his students. Oh, God. Was that the real reason she hated him?

"He's dead."

"Good riddance." The kid shrugged.

"He's got no family members listed on his file... He have any close friends that you know of?"

"He used to get on pretty well with the dean. Military buddies – they were in the Marines together. But recently – I mean, the dean got wind of the sex stuff, and that totally ended it. Dean's a good man. Tried to fire Walters, actually. But the bastard had tenure."

"What's the dean's name?"

"Marlon Harrison. You can probably find him in the main administrative building over there." He glanced at his watch. "Look, I'm sorry, man, but I gotta get to class."

"Thanks for your help." The kid scampered off, and Booth headed for the dean's building.

* * *

Dean Harrison was younger than Booth had expected; he didn't even look forty. Despite his black goatee being flecked with gray, he had a vigorous, lively look to him. It was probably because his eyes seemed to belong to a much younger man. They were brilliant green, bright enough to distract Booth from the surrounding wrinkles.

As bright as their color was, they still held dark shadows. The dean was obviously distraught.

"I... I never made up with him while he was alive. He did some bad things, but – we go back further than that. I should have tried to understand. He would never have done that if his bitch of an ex-wife hadn't – I... what do you need to know, Agent Booth?"

"Why don't you tell me about his wife? What'd she have to do with the sex issue?"

"Okay. Well," he inhaled sharply. "He was married to the same woman for almost ten years. Then she just up and left – said he was too old for her, that no woman under the age of forty would touch him, he wasn't aging well – all that. He felt like... no man wants to think he's past his prime. And she was pretty harsh about it. He was... going through a rough patch. He shouldn't have done what he did, but... it wasn't all his fault. That woman inflicted some serious psychological trauma on him."

"Right." No amount of cruelty from an ex-wife justified a professor having sex with half his class. Especially not when his little sister was in that class. "Think you could give me her name?"

"Kate Walters – well, Kate Johnson now. I can give you her address, too." He scrawled it on a piece of paper and handed it to Booth.

"Any other people who had an issue with him?"

"Well... one of the girls he, ah, you know... well, her father wasn't too happy. You might want to talk to the two of them – Jane and Thomas Middleton. I can give you those addresses too... you know, Jane lives on campus. I can direct you to her dorm."

"That'd be great. Great. Thank you."

"And there was another girl who... had a disagreement with him. Never slept together, but they called each other quite a few names... He knocked her grade in his class down for gross misconduct. It hurt her average, but I've got to agree with his judgement. I mean, she had a huge fight with him in front of the entire class – hell, she slapped him in the face. I've hardly ever seen two people get along worse. She's my best bet, personally."

"What's her name?" He had a bad feeling that he knew the answer.

"Jessica Kent."

* * *

**AN: I'm kind of stunned by the response to this story. In just a few days, it's gotten half as many alerts and favorites as my other stories have in months. Thank you guys so much. ^^**

**And special thanks to my first reviewer! I absolutely adore reviews. ^^ Jess is loosely based on one of my friends, so I guess you two are a bit alike. =) **

**Just a random note: Gyllenhall University is fictional; I thought it would be really creepy to kill off the epidemiology professor at a real university, since that victim would have a real-life counterpart, so I just made up a school. Hopefully you don't mind the fabrication.**


	3. Chapter 3

Zack gently lifted one piece of the body – a forearm – and turned it over, his eyes scanning it for anomalies. It was difficult work, mostly because of how badly the body had been mutilated. The damage was extensive and severe; it was challenging to see past it to find injuries, and even more challenging to determine whether they had occurred before death or not. There appeared to some faint bruising around the wrist, but he had no idea when it had happened or what had caused it. It was remarkably frustrating.

He set down the piece, writing a reminder in his notebook to reexamine the bruising, and picked up another – the upper section of the same arm. Though he looked at it for approximately three minutes, he found nothing unusual. Supposing, of course, that one counted the mutilation present all over the corpse as 'usual'. He placed it on the table, reaching for part of the chest.

The sound of footsteps disturbed him; he glanced up to determine the walker's identity. As it turned out, there were two: Angela and Jessica. Jessica looked different somehow – oh, of course. Her hairstyle had been altered. It had been in a bun, but now it was down. After a brief pause, his gaze returned to the body, and he took hold of the chest section.

The footsteps, however, only grew louder; the women were coming towards him. "Hey, Zack," Angela greeted him. "Whatcha doing?"

"I am examining the remains." Was that not obvious?

"Oh. Have you found anything interesting?" Jessica asked. She seemed... cheerful. He had no idea why. What about examining remains would make someone cheerful?

"There is faint bruising on the right carpus. I'm having difficulty determining when it appeared and what caused it."

Jessica looked at the wrist intently. After a few seconds, she shrugged. "I've got no idea, either. I don't even see the bruising."

Zack indicated the proper area. "As I have previously stated, it's faint."

"Oh, yeah. That darker area... I see it now." She smiled. "Still no idea when, how, etcetera. Honestly, it's kind of amazing that you can even notice subtle things like that." Was that a compliment, as in 'it's amazing that you can do something so difficult', or was it an insult, as in 'considering how unintelligent I think you are, it's amazing that you can even perform that simple task'? He had no idea.

"Yes," he finally said. Her smile faltered somewhat, and her head tilted sideways approximately five degrees. He assumed that indicated confusion. Why was she confused? He'd simply acknowledged her statement. Maybe she was confused because it _had _been a concealed insult – if so, he'd just confirmed his stupidity in her mind. Of course it didn't matter, considering that he was above the ninety-ninth percentile for IQ; still, for some illogical reason, he disliked the idea of the girl thinking he was stupid. "I'm quite intelligent," he told her.

"That's... nice." She still appeared confused. Why was she confused? She was the one who was being confusing.

"It is," he agreed. Angela looked pained. Neither she nor Jessica said anything in response, so he returned to looking at the remains. As he was about to pick up the piece of chest again, something caught his eye. The nasal bone seemed... wrong. It was clearly broken – that had been obvious from the start – but that had been attributed to the postmortem damage inflicted on the body, since there was no remodeling. Now, though, he thought he saw something, barely visible underneath the mangled flesh. He reached for a scalpel and delicately cut away the thin layer obscuring what he thought he saw. As it turned out, he was right; there was remodeling.

"That's unusual," Jessica noted.

Zack nodded. "Judging by the extent of the remodeling, his nose was broken approximately six weeks ago. Then after the murder it was broken in three other places."

"Why would someone do that?" Angela asked. He couldn't put a name to her expression.

"I don't know." There were no facts from which to derive a conclusion.

"Well... you just found this fourth – first – break now, right? After hours of examination?" Jessica asked him. Was that another insult?

"Yes."

"You're obviously great at this," she continued. Sarcasm? Or was she being honest? "If someone as good as you just found it now, maybe it was meant to be hidden. Maybe whoever killed Doctor Walters wanted to conceal the original break for some reason. I mean, he or she has tried mutilating the body to hide a bunch of information already – the phalanges, the teeth, the hole from whatever killed him –"

"That's merely speculation," he said uncertainly. She appeared somewhat... sad after he said that. Had he upset her? How? He certainly hadn't meant to do that. Perhaps he should – no, that was illogical. She had strayed from science into guesswork. Then again, there was some evidence to support her theory. Should he point that out? It might make her feel better. But... he was confused again. Why was she so baffling? "However, it does have merit as a possible motive."

"Motive?" Doctor Brennan sounded displeased as she strode onto the forensic platform. "Zack, we're scientists. We deal with facts, not speculation."

"Yes, Doctor Brennan. I – I found another nasal bone fracture. It predates the ones we found earlier by approximately six weeks." He hoped to distract her from his brief foray into sentimentality.

"Very good," she nodded. She paused. "Who are you?" She asked Jessica.

"My name's Jessica Kent," she said, smiling. "You must be Bo – Doctor Brennan. Seeley talks about you sometimes. And, I mean, I've read your books, of course. It's nice to meet you."

"Why are you here? How do you know Booth?"

"I'm his sister. And I, ah, found the body."

"We don't usually keep suspects at the Jeffersonian." She seemed confused. Zack was relieved; he wasn't the only one.

"I'm a suspect?" Jessica was surprised and upset now. Why? If she was innocent, then nothing would happen, so she shouldn't be upset. If she was guilty, then she shouldn't be surprised. She made no sense at all.

Doctor Brennan nodded. "The man was dismembered almost immediately before you claim to have discovered his body, and Booth tells me that you disliked him. It would make sense."

"He knocked my grade down, so I killed him?" It was odd that she asked that. One would think that she'd know if she had killed him.

"No one really thinks you did it," Angela said. As Jessica was a suspect, that was probably untrue. "The coincidences are just kind of funky."

The sound of a xylophone was suddenly interposed into the scene; Jessica reached into her purse and pulled out her ringing cell phone. "Seeley?"

"_... Walters?... me that, huh? ...Jess... portant... not telli... n't look good..._" Zack couldn't hear the entire conversation.

"I didn't tell you that because it wasn't really relevant. What do you mean, hiding it doesn't look good?" She sounded worried again. "Well, I sure didn't think it was important. It was nothing. Look, he was yelling at me, and... I mean, is it really so bad that I slapped him? It wasn't even that hard. And I said sorry, anyway."

"_... again. I'll come... up in a few hours, okay?_"

"Sure," she mumbled, hanging up. She turned to Angela nervously. "Well, apparently _somebody _thinks I did it."

* * *

Booth knocked on the door. He'd been granted permission by the dean, the building manager, and one of the prefects – who the hell had prefects, anyway? – but he still felt awkward going into a college girl's dorm room. He'd had no problem with it when he was in college... but maybe that was the problem. Being here made all of those memories surface, and they had absolutely nothing to do with conducting interviews. Maybe he should have brought Bones – the door opened.

"Um, hel-_lo_?" A blonde girl with horn-rimmed glasses poked out her head.

"I'm looking for a Jane Middleton."

The blonde's expression immediately changed to disgust. "Oh my God. _You're _her new – oh my God. What _are_ you, forty? ...Oh my _God!_" She was about to slam the door in his face.

"FBI." He flashed his badge, and her face flushed with embarrassment. Did he really look forty?

"Sorry. I'm, uh, my name is Melissa Evans, but everyone calls me May. Well, Jay does. And some other people. Jane's in epidemiology right now. Probably hitting on the substitute," she commented sourly. "See, her _creep_ of a regular professor is gone. No one has any idea where the_ hell _–"

"He's dead."

Her eyes widened. "Oh my _God_." That seemed to constitute her entire vocabulary.

"Did you... know him very well?"

"You mean did I sleep with him? Uh, _no. I'm _not a _whore_, unlike _some _people." Her habit of emphasizing every other word was starting to wear on his nerves. "I wasn't even _in_ epidemiology. I mean, I _am_ a medical student, but I transferred from Georgetown – already finished that course. I only knew him because _someone _kept _screwing _him despite the fact that he _looked _at least _twenty _years older. I _hated _the guy. So did Dean Harrison. And so did my friend Jay. And so did – "

"Okay." He cut her off. "I'll go find her."

"Wait!" Melissa ordered as he stood up. "Campus is_ really_ big. You could get lost. And _plus_ her class is almost over, and _she'll_ be coming here right after. It would be easier if you just _waited_ here."

"I can find my way across a school campus," he assured her.

"Well, it'll still be easier if you _stay_. Wait here, okay? I'll get you some cookies."

"That's... very nice of you, but really, I'm..." She'd already rushed off.

He sighed and sat down on a lime green bean bag. Bored, he turned his eyes to the room. Half of the furniture was similarly garish, but the other half was mature and staid. The DVD shelf was divided similarly; romantic comedies were neatly aligned on one side, while science fiction movies, NOVA documentaries, seasons of _Star Trek_, and video games were piled on the other. The bookshelf had textbooks, of course, and some classics, presumably required for English class, along with the Bible, but otherwise it seemed to be the exclusive property of whichever roommate was the Trekkie; it was filled with cheap comic books, sci-fi thrillers and enormous tomes regarding quantum mechanics.

The door opened. "Hey," someone purred. "Who are you?"

He looked up and saw a girl dressed like a hooker. It was almost winter, but she was wearing fishnet tights, red high heels, a black leather micromini, and a low-cut leopard-print belly shirt. He quickly glanced away to her face. She'd used an astounding amount of eyeliner and mascara and painted her lips bright red, then teased her jet-black hair into a messy updo. "My name's Jane," she said with a smile that was – he had to be imagining it. She leaned over him, putting a hand on his arm. "You gonna tell me your name, honey?"

"Um," he swallowed. "Agent Seeley Booth, FBI. I need to talk to you about Doctor Todd Walters."

Mercifully, she got off of him, frowning. He stood up quickly and backed away a foot or so. "Todd? You know I'm not a minor, right? I'm nineteen. So he – or you – or anyone else – can do whatever they want with me, so long as I agree. I'm above the age of consent, Seeley. So, you know –" She batted her eyelashes. Oh, God.

"Miss Middleton," he cut her off, voice sharp. "I need to ask you some questions."

She pouted. "Can't that wait?"

"No. Do you know anyone who would want to hurt Doctor Walters?"

"Sure. Every guy in the class. I mean, like, half the girls had a go with him, you know? Some of them had boyfriends." Lovely. She giggled as she continued. "And my dad made all these stupid death threats. He says that Todd, like, 'took my innocence' or something. Which is totally not true. I mean, my first time was in eighth grade. Not with Todd."

"Your father made death threats?"

"Yeah. 'Imma shoot 'choo in the back o' th' head, then Imma chop off yer goddamn grabby fingers!'" She did an awful imitation of a Southern accent, then laughed. "He was always talking about getting a gun and a knife, and... just silly, really. Why?"

"Doctor Walters is dead."

* * *

Jessica realized that what she was doing was kind of pathetic. She had access to Angela's enormous screen and a large library of DVDs – she could finally get around to watching _Casablanca_, or _Titanic_, or _Vertigo_, or something worthwhile – but she chose to play _World of Warcraft. _Maybe it would be better if she didn't dwell on it.

She had no one to talk to. Angela had gone to talk to someone called Hodgins. Zack and Bones were too busy to chat, and watching them only frustrated her; she wanted to examine the remains herself. It wasn't like she could find anything they couldn't – they were trained geniuses, and she was just a reasonably bright medical student who'd minored in anthropology. It was just that puzzles had always fascinated her, and a murder – few puzzles were more interesting than that.

A guitar strumming told her that May was calling; she'd have answered it, but her Worgen Druid was in the middle of a pretty intense battle. The phone rang again, and again, and again; by the fifth ring, Jess realized it had to be pretty important. By May's standards, anyway. But she tended to exaggerate the importance of things; she'd once called a hundred times while Jess was in the shower. The astoundingly urgent issue had turned out to be that May had spilled salsa on her new shirt. This was probably the same, she reasoned as she cast a spell. Her phone rang again, though, and she abandoned her game with a sigh.

"What is it?"

"_Oh my _God_. Doctor Walters is _dead_._"

"I know... how'd you find out?"

"_This FBI guy came and said so._ _How'd _you_ know?_"

"I found the body... Hey, was the FBI guy named Seeley Booth?"

"_Yeah, but – I mean, Jay, you found a _body_! Why the hell didn't you _tell_ me? Kind of _important_, don't you think?_"

"Oh, that's neat. He's my brother. And... I guess. I mean, we see bodies all the time."

"_Yeah, we have _cadavers_, but... we don't _know_ those people. It's not the _same_ at _all."

"Were I emotionally attached to Doctor Walters, I would agree. But as it is... I feel fairly neutral."

There was a long pause. "_You. Found. A. _Dead guy_. Neutral? Really? Dude. The Spock thing is getting _old_._"

"I'm not – I just – why should it bother me that this creep is dead?"

"Because _you found a_ body_!_" She sounded upset. "_All chopped up into pieces and sh– look, you have to _care_. Otherwise you're a psychopath._"

"I'm not a psychopath. My mom took me to a ton of psychiatrists when I was a kid... nobody said psychopath."

"_I – I didn't mean literally. Just – I guess it's just shock._"

"Yeah. I guess it's just shock." She wasn't a psychopath, was she? She would care if someone she liked had died. But it was ridiculous to be miserable about the death of someone she'd always disliked. It would be illogical to affect sadness for the benefit of others. Surely that didn't make her a psychopath?

"_Anyway. Jane was _totally_ hitting on your brother."_

"Ew." She made a face, which was a bit pointless, considering that she was talking on the phone.

"_Yeah, I _know_. He was creeped out too. Seriously, she needs to stop it._"

"Agreed. It's just... bizarre."

"_Yeah._"

There was a long silence.

"Well, bye."

"_Yeah. Bye._" Click_._

Jessica resumed battling monsters; she'd hardly started when the door swung open and Angela entered with a short man with bright blue eyes and astoundingly curly hair.

"_Warcraft_," he grinned in recognition. "Nice." Was that sarcasm? Did he actually think it was nice, or was he... she hated having no idea what was going on.

She smiled awkwardly and shrugged as she stood up. "Yep."

"Doctor Jack Hodgins," he said, sticking out a hand; she shook it.

"Jessica Kent. Nice to meet you. Do you work here?" She spoke too fast. She did that all the time.

"Yeah. I'm the bugs and slime guy," he told her, still grinning.

"Cool," she returned the grin. "I'm the _WoW _and _Star Trek _girl."

He laughed. "Zack'll love you. You've gotta meet him."

She tilted her head to the side; it was a stupid habit. She always did that when she was confused, as though it would help. "Why do you say that? I mean, we met... we didn't really talk much, though."

Hodgins shook his head. "You must not have mentioned Star Trek. Say 'Kirk was the better captain'. You'll have him going for hours."

"Oh, no. He's not a Picard fanboy, is he?"

"'Fraid so," he laughed. So much for Zack being a genius.

The door opened again; this time, it was Seeley. "Jess," he greeted her. She sighed. He'd said that he needed to interview her again, but she hadn't quite believed him.

"I've got to go," she apologized to Hodgins and Angela. "I'll see you later."

"Bye," Angela called as she left. Once the door closed, she turned to Hodgins. "Am I the only one thinking that she and Zack would be _adorable_ together?"

"In this room? Yeah." He chuckled.

"Oh, come on," she pressed. "You can't see it?"

"Nope. He likes Picard, she likes Kirk – not a chance."

"You're ridiculous," she laughed.

* * *

"So you corrected the sentence, he noticed, you got defensive, he told you to calm down, you insisted he was wrong, he raised his voice, you slapped him, he lowered your grade. That's it? Nothing else I should know about?" Booth asked. They were in Bones' office; she'd agreed to let them talk in there.

"Um... he didn't just raise his voice – he started to talk about... not important. Anyway, after he lowered my grade, I tried to argue the point," she confessed.

Perfect. Just perfect. "What happened?"

"Well, I went to the dean. He said that he couldn't do anything about it – told me to go talk to Doctor Walters about it. So I did, and he told me that it was my own fault, I said I thought it was unfair, he started screaming at me again, I talked over him, and it was kind of tense... my phone vibrated, but I guess he couldn't hear it over the yelling, and so I reached into the pocket inside my jacket and he flipped out and jumped up and pushed me, 'cause he thought I was about to pull a gun – and, I mean, he pushed me, so I got scared and punched him in the nose as hard as I could, and then he got a nosebleed and started swearing... I... I mean, I'm not usually like that," she insisted. "You know me. I never hit people. He... the first time, he made me really, really mad, and it was stupid anyway... that was my fault. But the second time – he pushed me. I just... I'm sorry. I promise I didn't kill him, though." Yeah. Promises held up nicely in court, especially if they were pinky promises.

"You punched him in the nose?"

"Yeah. I was afraid that I might have..." Jessica's face was suddenly filled with worry. "I was afraid that I might have broken it. And now... you know, that was about six weeks ago. And there was a nasal bone fracture from about six weeks ago... and it looked like someone tried to hide it." She swallowed. "That doesn't look too good, does it?"

**AN: I know, I know – season one of Bones was quite a bit earlier than the release of the **_**Cataclysm**_** expansion pack, which allowed people to play as Worgens on WoW. But I haven't been playing long enough to know which races and classes were around in 2005; I just picked my favorite combo. Hopefully that doesn't take away from the story too much. XD**

** T****hanks again to my lovely subscribers, favoriters (not a real word, I know XP), and reviewer! By the way, my reviewer has an awesome Zack/OC fanfic – if you like mine, then maybe you'll like hers too. For whatever reason, I can't post the full link, so just replace everything after . net with this: ****/s/6373917/1/Door_to_the_Future**

** Happy end of January! =)**


	4. Chapter 4

Jane Middleton's father wasn't what Booth had expected. Not at all. Her description had given him a mental image of a somewhat rough-around-the-edges man from the Deep South who'd do anything to protect his daughter; that much was true. But she hadn't said anything about him being an old man in a wheelchair.

His frail arms barely seemed capable of raising a weapon – certainly not of wielding a chain saw, slicing up his victim, and dumping the pieces in a forest. How would he even get through the forest in the first place? Wheels weren't so great in thick mud or on rough, steep trails. That didn't rule out his hiring someone else, but Booth wasn't sure he was mentally capable, either. His pale blue eyes were too kind, too gentle. Then again, people were different when their kids were involved; Booth sure as hell wouldn't be kind or gentle if some creep of a teacher had so much as touched Parker. He couldn't rule the man out.

"Agent Seeley Booth, FBI," he greeted, displaying his badge for the millionth time that day. "You Thomas Middleton?"

"Swear to God I didn't do whatever this here is about," he held up his hands, laughing a bit. "Haven't done much of anything in years. Been in a chair, as you can probably see... What are y'all investigating me for?"

"I'm here about the murder of Todd Walters."

To his surprise, Middleton chuckled. "'Bout time. Believe me, bastard had it coming. Now, I'm a God-fearing man, Agent Booth, and the good Lord said, 'Thou shalt not kill'. So rest easy; wasn't me. But when you find out who did it – lemme know, alright? Wanna by him a beer."

"What made you dislike Doctor Walters?" He knew the answer, of course, but it was procedure.

"First off, he spewed a bunch o' crap 'bout men in uniform. I served for fifteen years, Agent Booth – how I got stuck in this thing." He slapped the wheelchair. "I got nothing against a pacifist, but someone who tells me I'm a murderer – we're not gonna get along so good. We had a fight, and he 'bout pushed me down a flight o' stairs. Thank God his wife was there and stopped me from rolling all the way down, or I... Second of all, then that woman left him, and he used that as an excuse to... He did some... bad things, and my daughter was involved. Disgusting – I'm telling you, sir, special place in hell."

He had motive, and plenty of it. Still, he just didn't strike Booth as the type. And of course there was the wheelchair issue. He'd have had a hard time committing a murder himself, and just as hard a time paying someone else to do it on top of sending his daughter to Gyllenhall; according to his file, he lived off of VA checks.

The anti-military bit was new. "What sort of things did he say about soldiers?"

"Oh, the usual. 'You're just puppets, and the government's pulling your strings', 'There's blood on your hands', 'All o' you are filthy murderers'... all that. He liked describing things, real vivid – 'You're just walking right now, right? Don't think you've done anything wrong? Not a care in the world? Going to see loved ones, maybe? Well, imagine that – BAM – bullet comes out o' nowhere and there's excruciating pain and then you're dead. Happens every day in the Middle East, thanks to our snipers.' Really, Agent Booth, I've never met anyone who hated our troops so much. Wrong, just wrong."

"Didn't Walters serve in the Marines?"

"Yeah, yeah – he was a doctor. Surgeon, I think. But he only joined 'cause his daddy made him, from what I hear. Resented it from the start... all that anger just simmered, probably." He sighed. "That's what his wife told me, anyway. We had a nice little lunch after he tried shoving me down the stairs – talked a bit. Sweet woman. Wish my Jane would take a leaf outta her book. My daughter's a bit...misguided right now." Understatement of the year.

Booth lacked a response to Middleton's comment about Jane, so he changed the subject. "Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt him?"

"Sure. Parents of every girl he's been with, his wife, the girls he's been with, the boys whose girls he's been with, the friends of every girl he's been with, the girls who wanted to be with him but couldn't – he's not the only messed-up person out there – the dean, all of his students – one of the harshest graders at Gyllenhall – there are plenty of people, Agent Booth. Too many to name."

"No one stands out in particular?"

"No, sir. To be perfectly honest with you, half the people at that school would've loved to kill him."

* * *

"Hey, I'm gonna get one of those cookie ice cream sandwiches from the little cart outside. Anyone else want something?" Jessica asked the scientists scrutinizing the bones as her stomach growled. One wouldn't think that playing computer games and napping was a good way to work up an appetite. In this case, however, one would be wrong. She was starving.

"Yeah. I know I always want to eat ice cream after working with a rotting corpse," Hodgins said, incredulous.

"I thought most people found the odor of decaying human flesh unappetizing." Zack was confused.

"I believe Doctor Hodgins was employing sarcasm," Brennan informed him.

"Oh." Zack paused. "I would like an unsalted soft pretzel. There is a stand in front of the Jeffersonian, approximately thirty meters from the ice cream cart I believe you are referring to."

"Sure... hey, Hodgins tells me that you like Star Trek," she found herself anxious to continue the conversation.

"That is correct."

"And that you like Picard more than Kirk."

"That is also correct."

"...Why?"

* * *

Hodgins had banished them from the Jeffersonian. That wasn't technically accurate, of course – he didn't have that authority – but he'd reminded them exactly how much he didn't want to hear a debate on the relative merit of fictional spaceship captains from the future. So they were sitting on the steps in front of the entrance, eating their food and arguing over something that, after half an hour outside in thirty-degree weather, even Jessica was starting to consider pointless.

"Mm. Yes, Kirk was bold. You've made that point before," she said, taking a bite of her fourth ice cream sandwich. _Fourth._ Words like that made her appreciate her metabolism so, so much.

"Yes. But you apparently didn't listen, since you still maintain that Kirk was superior."

"I did listen; I also countered. I'm quite willing to repeat my argument, if you've forgotten."

"I haven't forgotten it. I've rejected it. Your premise was invalid."

"Invalid? What, pray tell, is invalid about the following statement: When the Romulans are threatening to blow you to smithereens, shooting them is preferable to sweetly asking them to stop."

"The assumption that Picard would 'sweetly ask them to stop'. I find it likely that he would attempt diplomatic negotiations, but he would be firm."

"I didn't mean it quite so literally, Zack. I meant that fighting your enemies is better than negotiating with them."

"Aren't you Agent Booth's sister?" Slightly off-topic, but okay.

"Yes."

"So I assume you share a religion?"

"Yeah, we're both Catholic. Any particular reason... oh." She thought she knew what he was getting at.

"Doesn't the Bible instruct you to 'turn the other cheek'?" He asked.

"Look, I'm not exactly... It's complicated." She knew that sounded insanely stupid. But telling someone who was practically a stranger all about her doubts would be even dumber. "I'm not going to mix my religion with Star Trek, okay? Jesus gave advice that applied to reality; fictional characters in fictional situations aren't subject to rules meant to aid real people in real situations. He didn't preach to figments of people's imaginations. There are no parables involving Tribbles."

"You're speaking very quickly. Hodgins says that when someone speaks like that they are usually nervous or otherwise uncomfortable."

"Sore subject. I don't... I mean, I don't really think about it much." Jessica smiled wistfully. "Anyway, it doesn't apply to this debate. You've yet to give me a convincing argument in support of negotiation as, um, as opposed to combat."

"...I am willing to concede that, in that respect, Kirk has a slight advantage. However, his methods cost many crew members their lives."

"Eh, just redshirts. And it was usually their fault, anyway. I mean, he never let Spock be killed – not permanently, at least. That's what matters."

"Spock was my favorite character," Zack said.

"Same," she grinned. "Better than Kirk and Picard combined."

He paused for a moment. "Agreed."

"I guess the debate doesn't matter much, then." Of course it mattered. But she was in lightweight jeans and a short-sleeved shirt; avoiding hypothermia mattered more.

"That is true. Spock would have been a better captain than either of them."

"Naturally."

"You're the first person I've met who agrees with me on that." She wasn't sure, but she thought he seemed happy. Maybe she was just projecting, though.

"Same. Hey... you wanna go inside? I'm freezing."

"Why didn't you say that earlier? I would have given you my jacket." Jessica's heart skipped a beat – which was stupid. He obviously had no interest in her, so developing some stupid crush would be pointless.

"Well, thanks. That would have been really nice of you." Her response came out awkwardly.

"Hodgins says that men giving their jackets to women is the social norm, along with pulling out chairs and opening doors. He says that if they don't do these things, women sometimes think that they are jackasses." The way he phrased it made her laugh, but her theory had been verified. It wasn't anything special about her that had made him be so nice. It was just chivalry.

"Aw, that's not really true. You couldn't be a jackass if you tried, Zack."

"Wouldn't trying to be a jackass on purpose make me a jackass?"

She didn't have a response to that.

* * *

"So – who won the nerd fight?" Angela asked, smiling, as they walked through the door. She didn't seem to be using 'nerd' in an insulting way, but it wasn't as though Jessica would have any idea.

"We decided that it was irrelevant. There was mutual acknowledgement of Spock's superiority over both Kirk and Picard." Jess shrugged.

"...Of course there was. Anyway, Brennan figured out what was used to cut up the body." Angela made a face. "It was a surgical saw – the rotating kind. She called Booth, and he checked out the med school supplies. They're missing one that's a perfect match."

She felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on her. "Oh. Wow. That's, um, unfortunate."

"Why? Now we know that whoever did it probably had access to the Gyllenhall medical school supplies... Oh. Right." Angela looked pained.

"What?" Zack seemed nonplussed.

"I have access to the Gyllenhall medical school supplies." Jessica explained, sick to her stomach.

"It's all just circumstantial evidence," Angela reassured her. "There's nothing to prove you did it."

"But it doesn't look good, does it?"

"Well... I mean... No," she confessed. "Not really."

**AN: I can't believe it. This fanfic now has more favorites and subscriptions than either of my other (much older) stories. Thank you guys so much! =D & thanks to my reviewers, too. **

** Do you guys think that the whole Jess/Zack thing is moving too fast? I'm a bit worried, since I'm not too great with pacing. D:**

** Sorry that this chapter is a bit short. I couldn't really fit in the next bit of the story without making this chapter gigantic or splitting up some content that really belongs together. Hopefully that last sentence made sense. XP The next chapter will be longer – Booth's going to interview the ex-wife, and she'll give a much more complete description of the victim than the other suspects have so far. I'm looking forward to writing that. =)**

** Anyway... Hope you're not dreading Superbowl Sunday as much as I am. XD**


	5. Chapter 5

Jessica sat on the floor, leaning against the wall outside of Angela's office. She was completely silent, doing nothing but staring morosely ahead and thinking. Plenty of strange looks had been tossed her way – it was obvious that she didn't belong in the lab – but, in her state of despondency, she didn't give a damn. Let them think whatever the hell they wanted. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered right now, except for that phone call she'd just gotten.

Angela rounded the corner; her face was the first familiar one Jess had seen since her world had been smashed into a million pieces. No, no. Smashed implied something that could be glued back together – that was just a physical change. What had happened with her... that was irreversible, wasn't it? Like a chemical change, like melting – not, of course, that she needed to know anything like that anymore. Every scientific term she'd ever learned might as well be tossed out the window. Dammit, she didn't want to cry.

"So... have they found anything new?" she tried to be social. She wasn't sure why; it really didn't matter at this point. She'd failed anyway – the words had come out as scarcely more than a whisper, and her voice had broken on every other syllable.

Angela looked taken aback, probably because of how freaking pathetic Jess had sounded. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Just... nothing," she managed, sniffling a bit.

"You don't look like you just went through _nothing_, sweetie."

Jess was silent for a few moments. "Gyllenhall called."

Angela didn't press her for details; she just waited. Did she want to hear about it? It wasn't like Jess wanted to annoy her with her life story or anything, but she wanted to talk to somebody. She knew that it was stupid; she'd known Angela for less than a day. She highly doubted that anyone else cared, though.

"I... They... I mean, obviously it's not good to kill your professor..." she trailed off, eyes shining with tears. "I mean, obviously I didn't, of course, since... why would... I don't kill people... I don't... obviously, but I mean, I was already in troub – trou – trouble, since, since I already slapped him, him, I mean, you know, Walters, Professor – Doctor – Walters, and now he's dead, since I'm a suspect... like, unacceptable conduct, and potential danger, and unsuitable for the aca – academic environment..."

Angela looked confused. Probably because of all the babbling, so incoherent – hell, she couldn't think straight, even, nothing was making any sense. Things like this – no, they didn't happen, not to Jessica Amanda Kent, it just, they just didn't... She didn't... God, nothing made sense, she was confused, even more than she'd confused Angela – she was crying, and her nose was running, and it was so freaking pathetic – pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. At least let Angela understand, right?

"I got expelled," she choked through her tears. "I got expelled from medical school. You don't – you can't just get into another one too easy, you know? I'm never going to be a doctor. I'm never..."

"Oh. Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry." Angela really did look sad. She really did look like she cared. "Do you want to sit in my office?"

"Su – sure," she sniffed. God, she was pathetic. She was hardly even aware of what she was doing; she found herself in a chair. "Thanks... I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I don't... I don't know," she mumbled. "...I just... I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Do you want something to drink, or...?" Angela was so nice. She really was.

Jess nodded. "I... could I have a Sprite? Or a 7Up, or a Sierra Mist? Or... or whatever they have in the vending machine? I... I'll give you the money. I've got some in my –"

"It's okay; I'll pay for it. It's not a big deal."

"Thanks."

The artist left, and Jess took a deep, shaky breath. What was she supposed to do now? Her dream was gone, just like that. Her chance to be a doctor was gone. _Gone_. She wanted to stop crying so badly. Distraction... she needed a distraction. The room could be a distraction. It was filled with drawings, paintings, sketches, sculptures... everything. She tried using a particularly interesting portrait to divert her attention from the fact that she was a dismal failure, but it didn't work. She tried again with a sculpture of a dog, and yet again with a sketch of the Eiffel Tower; the result was the same each time.

The door opened; she looked up, expecting Angela. Instead, she saw Zack standing stiffly in the doorway.

"I was looking for Angela. We've discovered a possible cause of death, but we need to model the impact... were you crying?" Her tears had blurred her vision; she couldn't see his expression.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Got expelled."

"Why?"

"They think I killed Doctor Walters. Unacceptable conduct, unsuitable scholarly attitude, safety hazard... they said things like that."

"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. As stilted as it sounded, there was an underlying sincerity. Maybe Jess was imagining it, but she didn't think so. "Do you know where Angela is?" She had definitely been imagining it.

"She went to get me a drink. She'll probably be back pretty soon. You can wait here if you want."

"That would be the most advisable course of action." He sounded so smart. He _was _so smart. He'd never be expelled from medical school, since he would have been smart enough to have never gone into the woods, to never have hit a teacher, to never have failed so miserably... Oh, God, she was going to cry again.

She swallowed and blinked, but she couldn't fight it. She broke down crying again, in front of another stranger. God, she was pitiful.

"You're crying again," Zack noted uncomfortably.

"I'm – I'm sorry."

He walked over to her and sheepishly gave her a pat on the shoulder. "It'll be okay?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"I'm not sure... what's the social protocol for this situation?"

She laughed; she had no idea why. "Well, Angela already has the 'get a drink' thing down – usually it'd be tea, I guess, but this time it's soda, since I hate tea, but that's not really relevant – um, so I guess you could... hug me or something... I have no idea."

"Okay," he sounded confused, but still pulled her into an awkward embrace. He was as stiff as she'd ever seen him, but she still managed to delude herself that it was a nice hug, that he cared, that everything really would be okay.

"Which episode of Star Trek is your favorite?" he asked suddenly.

"Wha... what?" she was bewildered.

"Which episode of Star Trek is your favorite?"

"I... don't know. Why?"

"If I told you, my purpose would be defeated."

She pushed away from him. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about my motive for asking you what your favorite episode of Star Trek is and how, considering the aforementioned motive, it would be counterintuitive to tell you why I'm asking, as you thinking about the question and guessing why I'm asking it would be my intent."

"What? I'm kind of not thinking clearly right now. Can you use smaller words and less complicated sentence structure?"

"I don't want to tell you why I'm asking the question," he spoke slowly, as though she was mentally challenged. "I want you to think about the question. I want you to answer the question."

"Um... I still have no idea. I haven't watched any episodes in a while. Probably the Trouble with Tribbles, though... really, why are you asking?"

"As I've said before, telling you would defeat the purpose."

"Okay... well..." she tried to think of a response.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Brown."

"That's unusual. Typically people prefer more vibrant hues."

"I guess..."

"Do you prefer cats or dogs?"

"Dogs."

"What's your favorite letter of the alphabet?"

Oh, God. She was alone in a room with a crazy person.

* * *

"I don't even know where to begin," Kate said as she lit a cigarette. Her hands shook slightly as she pressed it to her pale, thin lips and inhaled deeply. She paused, then held one out to Booth. "Wanna light?"

"No thanks," he shook his head. Walters' ex-wife was a nervous wreck, he realized as he scrutinized her. Her black hair was thin and disheveled, her face thin and sallow, her nails ragged and sparingly covered with chipped red polish. "Did your ex-husband have any enemies that you were aware of?"

"Todd? Not at first. Used to be... used to be a real sweet guy. But then..." she shook her head and fell silent. Booth motioned for her to continue, and she did. "He just... changed. He never really told me why." Kate sucked in another breath of smoke; she'd paused again, and showed no signs of wanting to continue.

"What happened next?" Booth prodded.

"He starts going on about how he never wanted to join the army in the first place – he said that his dad was in the Marines and pretty much forced him into it. Total bull. Well, not total – he didn't want to join, but his dad had nothing to do with it. He'd never make him do something that life-altering if he didn't want to, you know? He just wanted to be a doctor and didn't have the money, so he went army to get the money for school. His heart was never in it; he wasn't like a real... You know what a real military man is like, don't you?"

He nodded. He'd served; he knew exactly what she meant.

"Anyway... Todd wasn't like that. He was in it to get money and get out. Still, he used to respect the guys who were willing to give everything like that. Held them in high esteem. And then he just started getting these ideas... I think he just resented having to risk his life just to pay for school. He wasn't the type who really valued others above himself too often... I think the resentment and stuff, I think it just got worse and worse until he just boiled over. And then he started rattling off all these awful horror stories about soldiers, especially snipers – I don't know why. He just... changed. I don't know why. And – and he started talking to people who weren't..." she trailed off, unable to finish.

"People who weren't what?" Booth pressed.

"There," she whispered.

"What?"

"People who... who weren't _there_. Imaginary." She looked like she was about to cry. "I didn't – I didn't know. I didn't see that part until after I'd told him I was leaving. I didn't realize he was... I didn't know that – I just thought he was acting out... I mean, if I went crazy, I'd want someone to take care of me... but I think it was too late, and once I'd sa – God, I'm a bitch. God, oh God, oh God," she sobbed.

Booth's eyes softened in sympathy. "It's not your fault. You had no idea."

She didn't stop crying, but at least managed to talk again. "I found some medicine... Haldon or something... in his medicine cabinet. I don't... I don't remember what that's for, but I know it was something serious. It wasn't his fault. He was literally, honest to God crazy. He didn't mean any of the things he said. Not really."

"I'm sure he didn't, ma'am. Were the pills – was it Haldol?" he asked.

"That's it," she nodded. "That's the one. What was that for?"

"Schizophrenia." The corners of his mouth turned slightly downwards. He wanted to believe the woman, but it seemed a bit far-fetched. "You left him a while ago, is that right?"

"It's been six months."

"And you say he was unstable enough that he had to be on medicine at that point?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"How could he teach for those six months – at one of the top medical schools in the country, too – if he was insane? Schizophrenia is... I mean, it's pretty serious."

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. The medicine made it better sometimes. He – you know how he acted out, right? It wasn't like there weren't any declining in, in the performance, and..." The sobbing became more vigorous, and she couldn't continue.

"Ms Johnson?" he tried. She shook her head, unable to articulate anything. "Was your husband seeing anyone for his condition?" He must have gotten the Haldol from somewhere.

She managed a nod, then rose shakily from her seat and left the room. Soon enough, she returned with a business card. "Doctor... Doctor Hendrix," she choked out.

There was no point in asking the woman any more questions, as far as he could tell. "Thanks for your time," he said. She tried to say something, but couldn't work up the strength; he simply nodded sympathetically and left.

* * *

"I don't... I don't know," Jessica stuttered. "You're sure? I mean, he's fine with it?"

Zack had some sort of device strapped to his face; it was apparently designed to measure pressure. There was copious padding underneath, but she had a feeling that punching him as hard as she could probably wouldn't be pleasant for him. "No. I'm definitely not fine with it," he objected.

"Oh. Well, then, I'm not –"

Hodgins waved his hand dismissively. "It's fine. Just do it."

"But..." she trailed off, uncertain.

"Sweetie, it's important," Angela reassured her. "We need to see if you could have actually broken the guy's nose."

"But this is Zack, not Doctor Walters. I have no desire to break Zack's nose."

"You won't," Hodgins shook his head. "That's what the padding is for. Besides, Zack does this all the time. He's always the one we test this stuff on."

"Really?" Jess asked, skeptical.

"Unfortunately," Zack confirmed.

She frowned. "Well... couldn't we just strap the – it's a piezoelectric sensor, right? – piezoelectric sensor to the wall or something?"

Angela shook her head. "Wouldn't work – there are too many factors involved. We need to recreate the scene as accurately as possible. I mean, you didn't punch a wall."

"Well..." she bit her lip. "I... I guess I'll do it, I guess. I... I mean... I guess. You're sure it won't hurt him?"

"He'll be fine," Hodgins said impatiently. "Just do it."

Zack leaned forward, getting into the same position Walters had been in when she'd punched him. Oh, God, she didn't want to hit him. She scrunched her eyes tightly closed, drew back, and... She _really _didn't want to hit him. But she sucked in a breath and threw everything she had into the punch, squeaking slightly as she made contact. Surprisingly, the impact wasn't what she'd expected – mostly because, well, it didn't really happen. Her arm brushed against Zack, but her fist didn't hit anything besides the air.

"...Did he duck?" she asked, opening her eyes.

Hodgins laughed; Jess turned to Angela in confusion.

"You missed, sweetie," the artist explained.

"Yeah," Hodgins agreed, still chuckling. "From a distance of, what, a foot? How do you even do that?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Um. Well, I've never been all that great at, y'know... punching stuff."

"Managed to figure that one out myself," he said, grinning.

"I, for one, am quite glad she missed," Zack spoke up. "Although I suppose that means she'll need to punch me again."

"This time, actually try to hit him," Hodgins advised.

"I... but I did try," she said, a bit pointlessly. Again, she pulled back and punched him as hard as she could; this time, she made contact. Zack barely even moved. "Are you okay?" she asked, nervous.

"I'm fine," he responded. "Was that as hard as you can hit?"

She nodded; Hodgins stared.

"That was 46.3 psi," he informed her. "Did you try at all?"

"No way was that – that had to be... I mean, at least a hundred or so, I'd have thought..."

"You wanna try again?" he asked.

She nodded and threw another punch, putting all she had into it; she couldn't help but make an 'oof' sound as she exerted the effort. "Better?"

"Not really. 48.9 psi."

"There's no way she broke the guy's nose," Angela decreed. "Probably wouldn't have broken anyone's nose with that. And, I mean, that guy had a pretty thick septum, too. I can't see her doing it."

"But... but I definitely made it bleed. And there was a cracking noise," Jess said, confused.

"That's not possible," she contradicted. "That wasn't nearly enough force."

Jess opened her mouth to object, but Hodgins, after exchanging a glance with Angela, interrupted. "You didn't do it. End of story."

Angela turned to Zack. "Why don't you get that thing off your face and show her the new bird exhibit or something?"

"But I need to return to Doctor Brennan," he protested. "There might be more evidence to be found in the remains."

"Then show her the remains or something," Hodgins said. "Shoo."

"Shoo?" Jess echoed. "But why... okay, I guess."

Zack, after shooting a puzzlement-filled look at Hodgins and Angela, removed the sensor and walked off towards the door with Jess. As soon as the pair was out of earshot, Hodgins turned to Angela.

"No way she was punching as hard as she could," he shook his head. "She's got to be lying.

"I dunno," she shrugged. "She has no muscle tone at all. And... I mean, she just doesn't seem like she'd be such a great liar."

He rolled his eyes. "You honestly believe that was her best effort? 48.9 psi?"

She sighed. "It's the first piece of evidence that'a actually going her way."

"And you don't want her to be the killer." he understood immediately.

"Of course I don't. Do you? I mean, she's just a kid. It would be like Zack killing somebody. It just – it wouldn't make sense, you know? It would be so depressing."

He paused momentarily, unable to think of a suitable response, and then his eyes lit up. "I know what would take your mind off of it. What if we went out and got a drink at–"

She smiled. "No thanks."

"You sure? We could go somewhere else –"

"Still no, Jack." Angela, still smiling, touched his arm as she turned and left.

He stared after her for a moment, then put his hands in his pockets and started towards his corner of the lab.

* * *

"I, ah, wanted to thank you," Jess said, looking at Zack. That was perplexing, he thought. They'd been walking in silence, and he hadn't done anything worthy of gratitude. He hadn't even held open a door or anything.

He stopped walking. "Why?"

"For the barrage of questions earlier. You know, when I was crying."

_Crying_. She wasn't about to start again, was she? He never knew how to handle that. As he worried, another thing occurred to him. Most people weren't grateful for his attempts at comfort. "Are you being sarcastic?" he asked tentatively.

"I – no. I get why you were asking them now," she smiled – she had a rather endearing smile, he thought. "It distracted me. And – I don't put much stock in psychology, but if I had to guess at this... maybe my conscious mind being elsewhere gave my subconscious time to work out the panic or something. I dunno... But whatever happened, I'm not as upset anymore, and I think a lot of that is because you got my mind off of it for a while. So, ah, thanks."

He'd helped. He'd actually done it right – he'd had a completely successful social interaction. A slight smile found its way onto his face. "You're quite welcome. I'm glad that I could be of service."

Her smile widened. "I freely admit that what I'm about to say is rather unrelated, but – has anyone ever told you that you have some pretty awesome hair?"

He blinked, confused. "I do?" When people commented his hair, it generally wasn't a good thing. Usually, they informed him that it was disheveled and that he ought to brush it.

She nodded. "It's all curly and fluffy-looking."

"Thank you," he said, rather awkwardly. With that, he began walking again; she followed.

They didn't get very far before her phone started to ring. She pulled it out and glanced at the display. "It's Seeley," she told him as she answered it.

He watched her facial expression shift dramatically. "What are you talking about? ...What? Who the hell are you? This isn't funny... Are you... you mean to say that you're entirely serious? He really... How? What happened? Oh, God, oh, _God_. Is he okay? Oh, God. ...Yes, of course. I – I'll get there as soon as I can..." she clicked the END button, then just stood there. It appeared as though she'd been punched in the gut.

"What happened?" he wondered.

"Someone stabbed Seeley."

* * *

**AN: Sorry for the ridiculously long wait. I had writer's block for a bit, so I decided to take a break for a week or so – after that, I just forgot this story completely. Then a reviewer pointed out that it had been four months since I updated, which kicked me into gear. XP**

**I know this chapter isn't quite up to par with the other ones (although at least it doesn't have a really sad attempt at a Southern accent in it... looking back at how I made Thomas Middleton talk cracked me up), but I rushed to get it done. I felt really bad once I realized that I'd made everyone who liked this story wait four whole months.**

**& one of my friends who read this said she got confused by all the OCs – mostly suspects – so I think it would be a good idea if I ran through them really quick.**

**Dean Marlon Harrison** - Dean of Gyllenhall University.

**Doctor Todd Walters** - Epidemiology professor at Gyllenhall University med school. Dead guy.

**Jane Middleton** - Med school student who slept with Walters.

**Thomas Middleton** - Jane's father, who has a completely unrealistic Southern accent. In retrospect, it was pretty stupid to give him an accent when I knew I couldn't write it. XD

**Melissa Evans** - Jess' friend; also a medical student at Gyllenhall.

**Kate Johnson** - Walters' ex-wife.

**Doctor William Hendrix** - Walters' psychiatrist.

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and subscribed! I'll try not to let you down again.**


	6. Chapter 6

"The EMT made it sound a lot worse than this," Jess told her brother as she finally managed to relax. "She kept talking about how there was blood all over the place, and... I was... I mean, I was in considerable distress."

"_In considerable distress_?" Hodgins echoed incredulously. "Nice way of saying you totally flipped out."

"I did not totally flip out," she protested.

"Sweetie. You were so hell-bent on getting to the hospital that you ran straight into the museum door on your way out," Angela cut in, causing Jess to flash a sheepish smile. "It wasn't even transparent or anything."

Brennan spoke up. "We – we were all concerned, Booth," she said. She shifted uncomfortably; it was obvious that she didn't know what to say in this situation. "We all came to visit you."

"Yeah. I see that," he responded, grimacing horribly as he tried to sit.

"Are you okay?" Jess asked anxiously.

"He just got stabbed," Hodgins pointed out.

"No, I'm good," Seeley said, sliding his legs out from under the sheets. He grabbed the nightstand for support as he tried to stand; somehow, he managed the feat.

Noticeably distressed, Brennan attempted to stop him from walking off by standing in front of him. "You aren't ready to leave. The doctors said that you suffered serious penetrating trauma to your chest; the knife nearly hit your lungs. You can't just – you need to rest, Booth."

As he tried to take a step, he doubled up with pain. "Maybe... maybe you're right," he grunted, staggering back to the bed.

"So... how exactly did you get stabbed, again?" Jess asked. "I'm afraid that I was too concerned with assuring myself that you were going to live while you were explaining it the first time."

He sighed. "You heard the part where I found out Walters was nuts, right?"

"No, but it doesn't sound terribly important right now. What happened next?"

"His wife gave me his psychiatrist's business card, so I go to the address to check the guy out – see if he knew anything about Walters getting killed. I get there, the door's locked and I hear screaming coming from inside. So I kick it down, run in, and get stabbed by this psycho patient with a knife. I shot him in the leg, we were both taken to the hospital, the end."

"Remind me how the crazy guy got a knife?" Angela was confounded.

"Apparently his deal is that he goes nuts when he holds weapons. He's been getting therapy for that for about a year now, so this Doctor Hendrix guy thinks it'd be a good idea to see if it's had any effect. He shows the loony a knife, and the guy flips, grabs it from him, and starts running around the clinic terrorizing people and carving up the walls. That's when I showed up." he winced, probably at the memory of being stabbed.

Brennan still looked uncertain of what to do. "Would you like me to bring you a drink? I believe that's part of the social protocol when attempting to comfort someone who is injured, ill, or upset."

"It definitely is," Jess reassured her. "That's what Angela did when I got expelled."

"You got expelled?" Seeley started. He soon settled into calm irritation. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You got stabbed," she mumbled. "I figured that was more important."

"I agree," Brennan nodded. "Being expelled is rarely life-threatening, but stabbing is potentially fatal."

He ignored her logic. "Don't you live on campus?"

"Yes. But why... ohhh," she said as realization dawned. "I can't live there anymore. Probably should have realized that a bit earlier."

"Where are you planning to go? Do you have anywhere to stay?" the annoyed look in his eyes had turned to concern. He'd always been protective, even by big brother standards.

"I'll figure something out," she shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant. In reality, though, she was nervous – she hadn't even thought about this until now. "But you just got stabbed. Why don't we, y'know, focus on that?"

"Why don't we focus on the fact that my sister is homeless?"

"Booth," Brennan tried to get his attention. "You never answered. Would you like me to bring you a drink?"

He sighed; he probably felt bad about ignoring his partner, especially since she was going out of her way to be nice. "Sure, Bones. I'll have a Coke. Thanks."

"You're quite welcome," she said, obviously glad to be able to help in a tangible way. Slipping through the door, she went to get his soda.

Zack spoke up for the first time. "You can move in with me with me if Hodgins approves," he offered.

Jess was stunned into silence; Hodgins was likewise rendered incapable of speech by laughter. Zack appeared bewildered by their reactions.

"Sweetie," Angela was trying not to laugh as she explained, "usually you take a girl on a few dates before you ask her to live with you. You're moving things a little too fast."

"I don't understand how dates are relevant," he said, nonplussed. "Additionally, there is no romantic relationship of any kind, and therefore nothing which could be moving too quickly. I simply have extra space which she might be able to use. The rooms above Hodgins' garage are very large, and I only need one of them –"

"No," Seeley cut him off and turned to Jess. "No, no, no. You're not living with Bones' weirdo assistant. Not happening. I've got an extra room; you can stay there."

"Thanks, Seeley" she smiled. "But, I mean... Zack, it was really nice of you to offer. And, ah, I don't think you're a weirdo, personally."

"Thank you," he said, a bit less stiffly than normal.

"Nah, he's a weirdo," Hodgins grinned, punching Zack lightly on the arm. "But we all love him anyway."

At that moment, Brennan, carrying a Pepsi, walked into the room. "They didn't have Coca-Cola, Booth," she explained. "But this essentially the same thing."

"Bones," he said, scandalized. "Coke and Pepsi – completely different. Completely different."

"They are not completely different. Their ingredients are very similar," she protested.

"I'm telling you, they're totally different," he insisted.

"I thought you liked both," Jess said, confused.

"Yeah, I do. But they're _not the same_. It's like... mac-n-cheese and pizza. Totally different."

"I don't understand," Brennan said. "If you were happy with the Pepsi, why did you protest?"

"Because you said it was the same exact thing as Coke, and it's not."

"I didn't say it was the same exact thing. I said it was _essentially _the same thing, and it is – it has the same fundamental attributes as Coca-Cola."

"Oh!" Hodgins' eyes suddenly lit up. "Doctor Brennan. I almost forgot – I was about to tell you, but then Jess ran in and started gasping that Booth had been stabbed. You'll never guess what I found on – well, in – the flesh sample you gave me. _Temognatha alternata_."

"What's that?" Jess wondered.

"A rare beetle native to Australia," he said, grinning. She'd never seen him quite so excited. "There's only one colony within a fifty mile radius of where we found the body – it's maintained by Gyllenhall's entomology department."

"How would it escape from its habitat and get into the body?" Brennan asked.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But it's in a bad way – looks like it got nicked by one of the blades – so I'm thinking it was there while the body was being mutilated. And they aren't found in the wild anywhere around here – definitely not where he was found, since that's one of the most pesticide-sprayed areas in D.C. – so I'm thinking the body was chopped up at Gyllenhall and then the chunks were moved to the forest."

"Why would someone do that?" Angela asked, looking disgusted.

Hodgins shrugged. "Not sure about that either."

Someone knocked on the door, then pushed it open, revealing himself. The stranger was a tall, muscular young man with delicate-looking glasses and a fancy silk tie; it was a rather unusual combination. Noticing the cluster of people around Seeley, he hesitated before speaking. "Have I come at a bad time? I assure you, it's no issue if you'd like me to come back after your visitors have left. I'm quite sorry to have interrupted."

"No, no, it's my fault," Seeley shook his head, then turned to his friends. "I forgot – I asked Doctor Hendrix to come here so I could ask him some questions about the murder."

Hodgins shrugged. "Fine by me. I needed to call Gyllenhall about the jewel beetle colony anyway."

"We'll see you soon," Angela smiled at him.

Brennan hesitated; it looked like she didn't want to leave. "Goodbye, Booth. I hope you recover quickly," she finally said.

"Likewise," Zack agreed.

"Thanks, Bones," he nodded.

Jess walked over to the bed and hugged him, careful to be gentle. "Get better, Seeley. I'll come visit you later if I can get a ride."

He returned the hug. "Thanks, Jess."

Noticing Doctor Hendrix glowering at her as she walked away, she smiled uncomfortably. He didn't return the expression, and so, confused, she turned away and kept walking.

"May I assume that's Jessica Kent?" he asked Seeley quietly, voice dark.

"Yeah," he replied, sounding defensive. "She's my sister. Why?"

"Mm," he said, disapproval clear in his voice. "I know a few things about her that might be useful to your investigation."

Her stomach turned as she left the room. What was Hendrix talking about?

* * *

Booth wasn't sure why the man seemed to dislike his sister so much, but he decided to shelve that question for the time being and start his questioning the usual way. "Were you aware of anyone who wanted to hurt Walters?"

He nodded. "There were a few people he mentioned in his sessions as being antagonistic towards him. His wife – understandably, considering the way he acted and his refusal to explain it by admitting he was suffering from schizophrenia – one of the girls who he had the affair with, the dean – until recently – and, most notably, Jessica Kent." Pure loathing was obvious in his tone as he said her name.

Booth pushed down the flare of anger that rose up in his chest. After taking a deep breath, he asked, "What exactly did she do that made her 'antagonistic'?"

"A lot of things, actually." Hendrix cleared his throat before continuing. "To begin with, she punched him in his nose – while it was broken, too – after tricking him into thinking she was pulling a gun, all because he didn't give her a good conduct grade. That was her own fault – she made a mark she called 'corrective' in a borrowed text –" Booth held up a hand, indicating that he should stop.

"She didn't break his nose? She just hit it after it was broken?"

Hendrix sighed. "That's what he claimed. He said that a man whose identity he didn't want to reveal broke it, and then she happened to hit it before he got it set. He told me that she was too weak to actually break his nose, but I think he just didn't want to admit that a girl so young she couldn't even drink alcohol could do that to him."

Booth couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved; if Jess hadn't broken his nose, she'd have had no reason to hide it by breaking it post-mortem, and that made the case against her one argument smaller. Still, he had to find out if she'd done anything else. "What else were you going to say she did?"

With a sense of déjà vu, Booth heard Hendrix sigh again. "Todd was trying quite hard to manage his condition. It was relatively mild for schizophrenia, but – well, 'mild' schizophrenia is still rather debilitating. I... you have to realize, Agent Booth, it was heartbreaking to watch him try so hard to act normally and then hear him talk about this one student who kept humiliating him in front of the class... One instance in particular was rather damaging. As I was saying earlier, she made a mark – in permanent ink – in a borrowed textbook. Walters wrote the textbook, so he got about fifty free copies when it was published; he always lends a copy to each student and asks them not to write in them so they'll be good for next year. That way, none of the students have to buy a textbook for his class. Anyway, he sees her writing in it and becomes a little upset – he'd been having a terrible day, with more hallucinations than usual – and tells her she can't do that. She tells him that she's fixing the grammar, pretends she doesn't know he wrote the book – let me tell you, Agent Booth, every student in that class was told at the beginning of the year, so there's no reason she wouldn't know – and goes on about what a travesty it is that people tend to connect independent clauses with commas and how stupid that is."

Booth was having a terribly hard time listening at this point, but he tried to keep paying attention.

"You have to understand – the poor man was surrounded by disemboweled tigers, for God's sake, which is a lot more disturbing and less humorous than it sounds – and this girl was calling him stupid. He tried to debate her on it, citing the famous _I came, I saw, I conquered_ line, all while trying to ignore his hallucinations – and, well, he lost. He told her that it wasn't a big deal, and she pointed out that he'd taken points off the essay of some girl he knew for doing the same thing, then called him a hypocrite – so he gave her a poor conduct grade. And for that, she went to the dean, tried to get Todd fired – and of course she brought up the affairs with his students, which nearly _did _get him fired... Speaking of that, did you know she called him a 'filthy whore' in front of the entire class? I'm telling you, she harassed him every chance she got. Absolutely hated him. She definitely had motive."

Booth winced. Jess had always been terrible at knowing when to stop bothering someone, and she'd obviously gone too far if Walters had talked to his psychiatrist about her this much. He'd been meaning to talk to her about the way she treated the few people she disliked for a while now.

"What about his wife?" He had heard a bit about the way she'd treated him from Dean Harrison, but assumed that Hendrix would know more about it than the dean.

"Not much to say there. He developed the disorder unusually late – he was in his mid-forties when it hit – and it was about the same age as midlife crises set in, so his wife assumed that was all it was. She thought all of his acting out had to do with that, and figured he was just overreacting. She ended up screaming at him, sarcastically telling him he was right to act out because obviously no decent-looking women liked him – the implication being that that was why he was panicking, and that by panicking he'd insulted her... it was a pointless tiff. There's not much to that." Hendrix sighed for the third time. "You know something tragic? He was planning to make it up to her – the night he died, actually. He planned it out so nicely... got her a –"

This was taking forever. Hendrix really seemed to love sighing and sharing useless details. "What about the girl he slept with?"

Hendrix looked miffed about being interrupted, but answered the question anyway. "As I said, he was about to start trying to patch things up with his wife, wanted to marry her again someday – that obviously precluded him from having intercourse with his students. One of the girls was, well, very attracted to him, and she didn't appreciate him telling her that the relationship had to stop. She threatened to tell her father about the fling if he didn't keep sleeping with her... he said no, she told her father, he visited the school and had a confrontation with Todd. Jane Middleton – I can give you her address if you want to ask her some questions."

Booth was surprised; he hadn't heard about Jane Middleton having any sort of confrontation with Walters. Had she been there when her father was pushed down the stairs? "That's not necessary," he said. He knew just where to find both of them. "Thanks, though."

"No problem. Any more questions?" Hendrix seemed eager to help, but Booth wasn't sure if he knew much else about the situation.

"I think I got everything I needed," he said. "Thanks for your time."

The psychiatrist nodded, a bit disappointed, and left.

* * *

"Thanks for doing this," Jess told Hodgins as she got out of the car. "Really."

She, Hodgins, and Zack were standing in the parking lot outside of her dorm – well, what used to be her dorm. She needed to get her stuff out, and, considering that she didn't have a car and her only nearby relative was in the hospital, she'd needed a ride from someone.

"No problem," he replied, grinning giddily. She'd thought he was excited about the jewel beetle earlier, but that moment paled in comparison to this one. "The entomology department head wanted to talk to me about the jewel beetlecolony in person. Did you know that they have the only Lord Howe Island stick insect colony in the Western Hemisphere here? It's usually off-limits, but Doctor Handel agreed to let me see it, since I'll be in the valuable bug section anyway to look at the jewel beetle." Hodgins looked like a child who'd just been taken to a toy store and told he could have whatever he wanted.

"Isn't that one of the rarest insects in the world or something?" she asked, catching his contagious smile.

"Not just one of the rarest – _the _rarest," he corrected. "There are fewer than fifty in the entire world – they were believed to be extinct for over seventy years."

"An excellent example of a Lazarus taxon," Zack noted.

Jess paused. "I know I've heard that before, but I can't remember what it is."

"It's a species which disappears from the fossil record and then reappears," he explained.

Hodgins glanced at his watch. "I can't be late to this," he excused himself. "Handel's a pretty busy guy, and I want some time to look at the colony. I'll probably be back in about an hour."

Jess grinned. "Have fun!" she called.

"Oh, I will," he said, returning the grin.

As he jogged off towards the entomology building, she turned to Zack. "I dunno if you want to wait here or come with me – whatever you want to do is fine."

"I'll come with you," he decided. "I assume the dormitory is heated?"

"Kind of." Jess made a face. "It's better than out here, anyway."

The two of them approached the door; as always, one of the resident assistants held out a clipboard for them to sign in. She looked at Jess with concern. "They said you were getting expelled because you were somehow involved with that nasty murder business with Doctor Walters. Is that true?"

"Yeah," she said, voice shaking unexpectedly. "I, ah... some people think I killed him. I promise I didn't, though. I mean – I didn't like him, but I wouldn't..."

"I know you wouldn't, sweetheart," she frowned. "You never even let us kill bugs. Oh, remember that spider in Annalee's room everyone wanted to squash?" she smiled widely at the memory.

"Yup." Jess returned it weakly.

"And who's this?" she turned to Zack, smiling even wider. "Did you finally get a boyfriend? About time you found somebody."

"No," he answered, extremely stiff. "I'm Zachary Addy."

"Nice to meet you," she said, smile turning fake at his lack of warmth.

The two of them wrote their names and the time on the clipboard, then started climbing the stairs.

"That woman assumed that I was your boyfriend. Did you bring boyfriends to your dorm often?" he asked.

"Well..." she trailed off. "No. Actually, I've never had a boyfriend." They reached her room; she pulled her key out of one of the duffel bags she was carrying, unlocked the door, and walked through with him.

As she closed the door behind them, he spoke up again. "While I don't mean to insinuate that you're a liar, I find that hard to believe. Perhaps you thought I only meant serious boyfriends?"

"Nope. I figured you meant any male who'd ever taken me out on a date at any point. Oh my God, look, giant fire-breathing squid outside the window!" Jess pulled open the top drawer of her dresser – the lingerie drawer – and stuffed its contents into the duffel bag before Zack looked back.

"There's no giant fire-breathing squid," he said, perplexed. "Such a creature doesn't exist. Additionally, if it did, would it not be in some sort of aquatic environment rather than floating outside the window?"

"Probably," she agreed. "Plus if it was a sea creature, any fire it made would just get extinguished by the water. Kinda pointless."

"Then why did you tell me one was outside the window?" he wondered.

"I just needed you to look away for a second."

"Why?"

Oh, to hell with it. They were grown-ups. Sort of. "I didn't want you to see everything in my lingerie drawer, that's all."

He appeared perplexed. "If you didn't want me to see those things, why didn't you hide that?" he pointed to a lacy black bra strewn on the bed.

"I didn't realize it was there," she said, turning a bit pink as she snatched it up and shoved it into the bag.

He stood awkwardly as she emptied the rest of her drawers and took everything out of her half of the closet. "I'm sorry that I saw it and made you uncomfortable."

"What? Oh, no, it's – it's not your fault. You didn't do anything. I just leave my crap lying around too much. My fault. I should be the one saying sorry." she walked over to the bookshelf and started laying the books that weren't school property into the second duffel bag; as she contemplated carrying it downstairs, she was suddenly grateful that she'd never been able to afford hardcovers.

"Why are you apologizing?" Zack seemed baffled. "It's not as though I disliked seeing it. If anything, it was quite the opposite."

She turned pinker as she zipped up the bag full of books and opened the final duffel. The only thing left was her stuffed tiger and her bedspread – she could still remember picking it out with her mother when she was fifteen. Oh, God. Her mother. She'd have to tell her mother that she'd been kicked out of med school. Oh, God.

She choked back a sob, causing Zack to recoil in alarm.

"I'm sorry?" he tried. "Did... did you want me to dislike it?"

"It's not that," she managed to hold back tears, but her voice quavered. "I just realized... I mean, I have to tell my mom I was expelled."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. He looked uncomfortable, and she didn't blame him – she'd almost started crying in front of him for the second time that day.

"I... do you think you could distract me again?" Jess asked, sitting down on the bed and trying to keep her voice steady.

He nodded. "Do you consider your eyes to be grey or blue?"

"Grey, mostly. I mean, there's mild central heterochromia, so the middles are a bit..." she swallowed, trying to stay calm, "a bit greenish-goldish. But pretty much... pretty much just grey."

"What's your favorite television program?"

"H... House, I guess," she mumbled. "This isn't working as well as last time. I think... I think I'm expecting it now, so... I dunno. I'm sorry. I just feel really crappy right now."

He looked at her contemplatively. "You would feel better if something unexpected happened?"

She shrugged. "I... I guess, if it was pleasant... I mean, that would be consistent with earlier experience."

He hesitated, then leaned over, tilted her head up, and kissed her. Startled, she fell backwards, eyes wide.

"What –" she couldn't articulate anything more. Her mind was still trying to process the sensation of his hand gently pushing her chin upwards, his hair brushing against her forehead, his lips meeting hers... it was overwhelming.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I – Hodgins told me that Angela said that she thought you might – I thought – I'm sorry if I –"

"Sorry?" she echoed. "Why would you be... No, you definitely don't need to be sorry."

"You're not mad?" he asked, sounding somewhat hopeful.

"Mad?" she shook her head vigorously. "Definitely not."

He looked relieved. "Thank you. It won't – it won't happen again."

"Won't happen again?"

"You keep repeating what I say," he noted. "That was the third time."

"Well..." she tried to steady herself. "Did you only kiss me to distract me, or did you actually want to?"

"Both, I suppose. The former provided an excuse, whereas the latter was the motive."

She grinned, standing up. "Then it's happening again."

With that, she stood on her toes and kissed him back; surprised, he took a moment to realize what was going on and pull her close. As they kissed, the duffel bags and the reason they'd come were both completely forgotten.

* * *

**AN: I was so excited to write this part~ =D**

**I do tend to mess up romantic scenes, though. I tried my best, but please don't be afraid to tell me if there's something I could have done better.**

**It took a while for me to realize that Jess had told two near-strangers about being expelled before she'd told her own brother. Obviously I had to fix that. XD**

**I noticed that Hodgins had done absolutely nothing the entire case, so I decided to put a bit of extra Hodgins into this chapter. Besides Vincent Nigel-Murray, he's my favorite, so expect to keep seeing him. c:**

**I tried to do the same thing with Brennan – she spoke to Booth maybe one time before this chapter. X) This isn't a Booth/Brennan fic, and I know they weren't quite as close the first season, but it felt ridiculous that they hadn't even argued yet. **

**The same friend who noted that the suspects were getting confusing also told me that it was strange how I call Booth "Seeley" in parts of the story written from Jessica's point of view, but "Booth" in parts of the story written from Booth's or Zack's point of view. That's because, although I don't write in the first person, I do try to write as the character would think. For example, Booth's parts tend to make use of a slightly less extensive vocabulary; Zack's parts have less information about the feelings of the other characters, simply because he doesn't have any idea what they might be. Admittedly, consistency isn't my strong point, and I sometimes forget to use the right names for people – if you notice any mistakes in my writing, I'd really appreciate it if you'd point them out.**

**& I know there are about five hundred of the stick insects now, but the first season premiered in 2005, so I used 2006 numbers (closest date I could find).**

**So~**

**Now that you've met all of the suspects, you've obviously met the killer at some point.**

**Who do you think it's going to be? I'm hoping that I haven't made it too obvious. :3**

**Thanks to everyone who favorited & subscribed, & especially those who took the time to review!**

**Britt: Well, the killer's already been decided. I knew who it was going to be from the start. & I think you may have liked the end of this chapter. ;D**

**anonymous: Thanks. ^.^ I did my best to make her a well-rounded character; that means a lot to me. & when is the lovely Zackaroni not adorable? =D Thanks for all the compliments!**

**OH OH OH. One last thing.**

**The reviewer who got my lazy, forgetful butt working on this story again has a great Zack-centric fanfic of her own: King of the Loony Bin. If you like my story, you might like hers too:**

**www . fanfiction s/7118798/1/King_of_the_Loony_Bin**

**Just remove the spaces. =)**

**/longest author note ever**


	7. Chapter 7

"You minored in Swedish? I was under the impression that you minored in anthropology." Zack attempted to imitate the confused head tilt Jess did so often. After Booth had spurned his questions about mate-seeking, he'd read several psychological studies which indicated that mirroring a potential mate's movements was conducive to romantic success. And, if he recalled correctly - which his near-eidetic memory allowed him to - Hodgins had said that remembering things a girl mentioned in casual conversation made her happy, so the sentence was hopefully successful. However, he had also said that it would "probably get you in a girl's pants", and crossdressing didn't appeal to him in the slightest, so perhaps it would make her want to see him in a tutu and therefore was a bad sentence. Why was social interaction so hard?

"Well, I minored in a lot of things. I had a full scholarship, took summer classes, had an average of twenty hours a semester, and started college at fifteen, so I had time to take whatever classes I wanted and money wasn't a problem." She smiled, and didn't demand that he put on panties. The sentence had indeed been a success!

"You started college at fifteen?"

She blushed and smiled. Wasn't blushing a sign of embarrassment? Why would humiliation be coupled with a smile? Why was she humiliated in the first place? "Yeah," she beamed. "Kind of early."

"I don't find it particularly unusual. I graduated college at sixteen." He'd started at twelve, and could not for the life of him understand why anyone would want to waste eighteen years of their lives in the public school system. Why didn't everyone start college earlier?

"Oh. Wow. That's really coo-" her phone started to ring mid-sentence. "Sorry, she apologized as she answered it.

"_Jess?_"

"Hey, Seeley!" she beamed at the sound of his voice. Zac was momentarily jealous until he remembered they were related to each other, which disturbed him. Were hormones already making him emotional?

"_I'm talking to Jane Middleton. She says she has something important to the case, but she only wants to tell you._"

"Why? We're not close friends. We're not friends at all. I actually think she actively dislikes me." Zack frowned. Why would she be disliked? Perhaps it was because of her erroneous favoring of Kirk over Picard. He could understand that, he supposed.

"_I have no idea. Look, she's already told me way more than I want to know about the bikini wax she has an appointment to get in half an hour, so I don't really have time to convince her to tell it to me without arresting her. You're already on campus, right? Can't you just come to her room so she'll tell you whatever the hell it is?_"

"But that puts me in a rather awkward position, considering that I'd have to leave my date alone in my room and he'd get bored," she frowned, then turned to Zack. "Wait, does this count as a date?"

"_You have a - what? Who is it? Why is he in your room? Are you okay?"_

_ "_A date. Zack. He was helping me pack until he saw my bra and we got distracted. We're just on the bed now. It's fine. Why would I not be fine?" As socially inept as he was, Zack had the feeling that her summary would probably not go over well with Agent Booth.

"_The bed? The _bed_? With Mr. I Love Dead Bodies and Awkward Sexual Questions? What do you mean, he saw your bra? I -"_

_ "_Um, I'm going to Jane's room now," Jess said hurriedly, hanging up. She turned to Zack. "Do you want to wait here?"

"I would like to bring your bags to Hodgins' car," he volunteered. Immediately, he regretted it. That was another thing that Hodgins had mentioned as a way to get into girl's pants, and, although he would never judge his friend for his sexual preferences, Zack personally wanted nothing to do with it. "I do not want to get in your pants," he clarified helpfully.

"…What?" She looked confused. Why was she confused? He had just gone to all the trouble of clarifying so she wouldn't be confused.

"I am satisfied wearing men's clothing."

"What?"

"My low estrogen and high testosterone levels have produced a figure which is more suited to masculine clothing, and I have been socially conditioned to prefer it." She still looked confused, despite his many explanations. He felt as though he was missing something.

"Can we talk about this later? I have to run downstairs really quick. If you still don't mind taking my bags out to the car while I'm gone, that'd be great." Jess smiled, although she still looked confused, and left.

* * *

Jane sighed. "Look, I'm not telling you because you're special."

Blinking, Jess nodded.

"I'm telling you because you're smart enough to understand, but you're enough of a loser so that no one would believe you if you told." The older girl looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Harsh. But okay, I guess."

"Honestly, I didn't want to sleep with Todd," she sighed.

Jess went cold. "Are you saying he r… did he…"

"No," she waved a hand dismissively. "He didn't even know I didn't want it. I flirted with him constantly. He thought I was crazy about him. But he was an old, ugly-ass guy. I just did it to make the dean jealous."

"Why couldn't you just tell this to Seeley?" Zack was still waiting for her on the bed, and she had really wanted to teach him some Swedish. If this could just end soon...

"Because stuff I haven't said yet. Let me finish. _God. _I can see why no one likes you," she snapped. Jess' heart sank. "I just wanted Marlon - Dean Harrison, I guess you'd say - to love me. He wasn't paying enough attention to me. That sounds pathetic, so no, I'm not telling your hottie brother who I want to impress. By the way, is he single?"

Making a face, Jess shook her head. It was a lie, but maybe it would make Jane stop harassing him.

"Oh. Well, is his girlfriend an 8 or better? If not, I could probably get him anyway," she mused. "But yeah. What I was saying. I just wanted Marlon. He made me feel good about myself. And I _never _feel good about myself. Except when I'm standing next to people like, you know, you. Or Melissa. I mean, I know she has friends, and she's slept with way more guys than me, but she's never even tried to land anyone with a girlfriend, which I think is the only real challenge. Single guys will hit anything."

"What's your point?"

"So I did Todd. And then Marlon got mad. Like, really, really mad. And he broke the dude's nose. So I was afraid to stay with Marlon that night, because he was all ragey, and I didn't want to go to the dorm because Melissa was having some stupid Star Trek thing with a bunch of, you know, people like you - no offense - and so I stayed with Todd. And then you came in and hit his busted face, and he started bleeding again. Thanks, by the way - he had just cleaned himself up and was all ready to go, but after you got it bleeding again he totally wasn't in the mood anymore. He wanted some really kinky shit that night. Like, he wanted to have me -"

"So Dean Harrison was the one who broke Doctor Walters' nose? Not me?"

"Yeah. Not you. And they really didn't like each other. Marlon had looked the other way with the whole doing students thing, and the whole anti-troops thing - by the way, Todd was freaking crazy. I think he was on meds or something. He hated the army because he thought they were sneaking into his room at night and taking his pillows. He wasn't really against the military for a political reason. But anyway, Marlon stopped looking the other way after that. He started freaking out and was all like 'why don't you go do your wife', and 'what do you mean the army was in your bedroom' and stuff."

"Oh. Well, thanks."

"Yeah, yeah. If you're really grateful, do you think you could let me have a go with your brother? Just tell him I'm a really good lay or something."

Jess left without responding.

* * *

"No," Booth said. "No. No, no no. Not weirdo assistant." He couldn't believe he was actually having this conversation. As many strange things as he'd seen at work, his sister going out with Zack beat out all of the rotting corpses by a mile. He'd rather everyone on the forensics platform be discussing some sort of pustule that exploded and gave them time of death or something - not _this._

Angela gave him a knowing smile. "I get it. You're being protective. But she's old enough to make her own choices. Come on, Seeley. They're cute together."

Easy for her to say, Booth thought. _Her _sister wasn't dating a vaguely creepy guy who cut up bodies all day. "It's a bad idea."

"Agent Booth?" The weirdo had apparently decided to speak.

"Yeah?" If the kid asked for sex tips, he was getting shot.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't want to get in her pants." What?

Hodgins stared, obviously confused. "What happened to the whole 'Naomi dumped me and I don't like dry spells' thing? I thought you wanted to get laid. And seriously," he gestured at Booth, "probably not the best time or place to be discussing your plans."

The creep looked confused. "Oh. Well, I would certainly not be opposed to sexual intercourse. But the practice of crossdressing is utterly unappealing."

Jess stared off into the distance, deliberately avoiding Booth's gaze. Angela's expression was the most pained he'd ever seen it. "Sweetie. It's an idiom."

Noticing Booth's tightly pressed-together lips, Hodgins nervously tried to change the subject. "Anyway, I found some really interesting stuff at the entomology department," he interjected. "Want to -"

"Wait," Zack said, brow furrowed. "What does the idiom mean?"

Booth took a deep breath and tried to keep his hand away from his pistol.

Hodgins pointed at a shiny-looking bug on his monitor. "This is the beetle we found on the victim. The head of the entomology department said he gave it to Walters because Walters wanted it as a present for his wife, but after Walters left with it, Handel realized he'd given him the wrong bug - this one was due to lay eggs, but some grad student had it in a different enclosure and Handel mixed it up with the bug that was supposed to be a present."

"So?" Booth was getting impatient.

"So Handel called to ask Walters to come back and switch bugs, but Walters didn't answer, probably because Walters was dead. That helps confirm time of death. And we poked around and found some larvae in the grass near the baseball field - they must have come out of the beetle when it was cut with the saw. If we can show that your sister wasn't on campus at the time, we've proven that she couldn't have done it."

Booth nodded. "But how would we prove that?"

The room was silent. No one kept track of who came and went on a huge college campus. It was a dead end.

"Seeley?" Jess spoke up.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe we can't prove I didn't, but I think we can prove someone else did."

** AN: I know. Over a year since the last update. I'm really sorry.**

** But hopefully you guys like this chapter. Only one more (probably extremely long) chapter until the end! Should be posted on Tuesday. Thank you so much for sticking with the story despite the long absence! =)**


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